


One Human Life

by ludgerkresnik



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Declarations Of Love, Fictober, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Modern Era, Original Character Death(s), Survivor Guilt, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 09:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16261712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ludgerkresnik/pseuds/ludgerkresnik
Summary: Heracles remembers a young man he had been in love with--someone who seemed to be so blessed by the gods. Yet, what the gods give, they can take away and he wishes he had spoken the words he should have said to him.





	One Human Life

**Author's Note:**

> There are references to World War One in this, but it's not really the setting.

There had been someone Heracles had been in love with so many years ago, a young man close to his age with honey brown eyes bright and full of life and face of youth. Helios truly blessed him with a smile that rivaled the sun, and a beauty even Adonis would envy–and he never meant those words in such a dramatic manner. This young man was simply his everything.

He had brought youth back to his tired, old soul and aching body. For the brief few years, for once, Heracles didn’t feel as though time had stagnated. He was able to assume the identity of a human being for awhile, pretend he was just like everyone else. Between the smoke from cigarettes to entangled limbs, hushed whispers and him praying to Aphrodite for her blessing of their love.

When time continuously marched on, so did their relationship. He spoke of the west, and they pretended not to hear the fears, the whispers of the war waging on around them, the hushed and stilled fear of entering into war once again. The Greek army was starting to mobilize, and his lover so proudly spoke of joining. For this country, he had said, he would give his life. They had wrote letters as often as they could–a desperate attempt to make sure the other is okay. 

Every day was almost a nightmare for Heracles, the sinking fear if he doesn’t receive a letter or any form of notification of this young man the gods had blessed him with, he would be gone forever. And one day, it was radio silence. When the news was broken to him, the soft, “I’m sorry about the loss of your friend.” the world stopped for him once more. It was the news of his lovers death that he had realized he had never once said those simple words, they had felt so forbidden on his tongue.

Even now, it eats at him. Had he been in love with this young man, whose youthful face and bright eyes lit up Heracles’ whole world? Regardless of it was love or infatuation, he still feels such  _pain_  towards it all. He hadn’t gone to his funeral, unable to face the boys family and unable to deal with the realities of a human lover. He had failed to protect the one he loved–he did not  _think_  to offer him a safe out and away from all the fighting.

And Kiku lays where his lover had once had, with his cat, laying curled up right next to him. Heracles stares down at him, listening to the storm rage outside. Lightening briefly flashes, its light casting shadows along the walls before fading away.

Cautiously, he reaches out and lightly runs his figers through Kiku’s silky black hair, threads of it falling through his figers and resting against his cheek. Admittedly, part of Heracles fears that he will lose him as well at some point. Their lives have no promise to them–they could live for centuries, decades with no ceasing and they could disappear within a few days. Their relations are reliant on the whims of the humans, and there is no promise of a  _tomorrow_.

Heracles finds himself, most days, watching as the humans around them, carry on with their lives with no worries of tomorrow. He witnesses marriages with envy, they are able to commit to each other in such a way he was not allowed to. In one human life, he would be thrilled to live differently; love differently with no obligations to a higher power, with no uncertaintities of tomorrow and carrying on while  _loss_  hangs in the air.

His fingers brush against a wet spot, and it dawns on him that he’s crying–ever so slightly. The wetness on his face is a testament to this and he swallows, forcing himself to calm down. Kiku doesn’t need to wake up to see his tears.

Yet, his tears seem to be what wakes Kiku up, whose tired expression melts into a look of concern. Heracles’ hand falls away from his cheek and onto the bed. This time, it’s Kiku who is lightly stroking his face. They don’t need to say anything, words are not a necessity for either of them, and yet.

“I love you,” Heracles whispers as he lightly cups Kiku’s face.  _Those words are never spoken between their kind_ , they know this. He knows this so well.

There’s an unreadable expression that crosses Kiku’s face; his mouth forming into a thin line and perhaps Heracles has said the wrong thing, but he  _needed_  to say it.

“I know you do,” Kiku says softly, leaning in. “I know.” He presses a chaste kiss against Heracles’ lips. The silent answer. Heracles knows his feelings are the same–he’s always known. “I’ll make you some tea,” he murmurs.

And Heracles is okay with that.


End file.
